


A Helping Hand

by cryptidturtle



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: First Aid, Gen, M/M, Minor Injuries, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Tumblr Prompt, donpad if you squint, injury prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidturtle/pseuds/cryptidturtle
Summary: “How many of them were there? This doesn’t look like one man’s doing.”Is what Donald asks him while he pops open the first aid kit and turns to face Launchpad, who he made relax on the couch. It’s the first question Donald has asked him since Launchpad stumbled past the houseboat bruised and bloody.





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> based on these [injury prompts](https://transdarkwingduck.tumblr.com/post/180539818864/injury-starters)  
> talk to me about ducks on my tumblr [sideblog](https://transdarkwingduck.tumblr.com/)

_“How many of them were there? This doesn’t look like one man’s doing.”_

Is what Donald asks him while he pops open the first aid kit and turns to face Launchpad, who he made relax on the couch. It’s the first question Donald has asked him since Launchpad stumbled past the houseboat bruised and bloody. Launchpad had full intentions of going back to his garage to sleep it off. Donald had been out relaxing on the deck looking at the night sky and saw him almost trip and fall into the pool. He took one look at Launchpad’s beaten face and dragged him straight inside.

 

Launchpad had attempted to play it off, _I just bruise easy._ But Donald merely gave him a dull look and continued to lead him to the houseboat. He grimaced at the question, this wasn’t his finest moment. The last thing he wanted to do was invest Donald into his problems. He offered a sheepish smile which made his jaw ache furiously, “Like four or five, I think. Kinda lost track when they started kicking me.”

 

Donald rolled his eyes but lacks any malice behind it, “Well whoever they are they sure did a number on you.” He comments, not pressing the issue. After fishing out some gauze he gently presses it to the bloody scrape on Launchpad’s cheek. Then, holds another to the cut on his forehead that had begun to stain his feathers pinkish-red. Donald kept his hands lightly against the gauze on Launchpad’s face for a moment or two before he rose. “Keep those there, facial injuries bleed a lot. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go wash my hands and get you some ice for that eye.” He says.

Launchpad is so stunned by the hospitality he forgets to say thank you until after Donald has already vanished. His face throbbed and the irritated abrasions he found himself holding gauze against stung. His whole world felt thrown off kilter, with Donald being the only thing that was stable. Although that was probably just from how many times the back of his head slammed against the ground. _Yeah, just that._

He blinks, once then twice. Launchpad finds his good eye scanning his surroundings, the left one swollen shut. Now that he was finally off his feet he could see straight, mostly, the edges of his vision still blurry. The houseboat was well kept in its own little organized chaos, there was far less clutter than Launchpad’s bachelor pad-garage. Pictures covered the walls of the triplets and other family photos, which brought a soft smile to Launchpad’s face despite the pain of moving his jaw. He realized he hasn’t been back to the houseboat since he offered to help Donald rebuild after the eclipse months ago.

 

Donald returns wielding an ice pack and a wet washcloth to find Launchpad’s gaze directed at one of the family photos sitting on the coffee table. “You would not believe how long it took to get the boys to sit still for that.” He said with a light laugh.

 

Launchpad’s small smile widens until he’s forced to stop with a wince, “How old were they there?” He asks.

 

Donald thinks for a moment, “They’d just turned five and we had a little party in the park. Right after that photo Dewey ran into the sprinklers.” He says fondly. Donald hands Launchpad the ice pack, “Now alternate that between your eye and your jaw, ‘should keep the swelling down.” He instructed.

 

Launchpad obediently pressed the ice pack to his eye, tensing for a moment before he got used to the sudden chill. He frowns, unsure of himself for a moment before he manages to speak. “Mr. D, thanks for all this. I’m sorry I interrupted your night and got blood on your couch-“ He says preparing his long-winded apology.

 

Donald raises a hand to stop him, “First off, it’s Donald. You’re like thirty-something, right? I’m only a few years older than you Launchpad, you don’t have to be all formal. Second, it’s fine I wasn’t going to just leave you to fall in the pool.” He replied wryly.

 

Launchpad let out a laugh, “Okay, _Donald,_ I appreciate it.”

 

Donald gives a hum in response, a hint of a smile on his beak. He hovers the washcloth near LP’s face, “This might sting a bit.” He informed before gently dabbing the injuries with the wet cloth, washing away the dried blood and grit around the scrapes.

 

Launchpad kept still, a quiet hiss of pain escaping him as a particularly sensitive cut was cleaned. His eye that wasn’t swollen flickered to Donald’s before looking to the floor. Eye contact felt strange right now given their close proximity, making his heart stutter with anxiety. _Not the time, LP, you look like you got hit by a bus,_ he finds himself thinking.

“…Thanks for, y’know, fixing me up ‘n stuff, m- Donald. I don’t mind doing it myself.” He tried to keep the awkwardness out of his voice, correcting himself before he can slip up and call Donald Mr. D.

 

Donald shakes his head, the smile from before a smidgen wider. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve taken care of too many scraped knees to let you fix this up all by yourself. Not to mention I’m still not positive you don’t have a concussion.”

 

Launchpad let out a laugh, “I’ll be honest I’m not so sure about the concussion thing either.” That earns a chuckle from Donald. They fall into a more relaxed silence as Donald finishes cleaning the wounds and applies Neosporin to the particularly nasty looking ones.

 

It’s only when Donald turns to get the bandages out from his first aid kit, does he break that silence. He takes breath, it’s a weary sound of someone who’s been forced to ask this before. “Launchpad, now I’m not one to pry into people's’ personal lives and what you do is your business, but I just need to make sure that whatever caused this,” He gestures to the bruises already beginning to surface on LP, “will never follow you back to my family.”

 

Launchpad choked on air, startled by the question despite its validity. “Mr. D-!“

 

“Donald.”

 

“-Donald. I swear I would _never_ let anything endanger the kids or _anyone._ This- what happened- was a one-time thing. I completely understand your concerns, but I _promise_ you, I would never let that happen. I might live dangerously with my driving, and flying, and when it comes to ignoring the expiration date on milk, but when it comes to the people I care about, I’m always careful.” He says with a solemn tone that bears no resemblance to the lighthearted voice Donald is used to hearing.

 

The duck in front of him nods, his shoulders relaxing the tension in them. “Then that’s all I need to hear.” Donald replied, satisfied with the answer. He took advantage of the relieved tension to place a bandage on a particularly deep gash on LP’s face he’d managed to clean. LP kept still, unbothered by the gentle touch.

 

Launchpad smiled faintly, relieved Donald deemed him trustworthy. “I know you’re trying to respect my privacy, but d’you mind if I explain how I wound up like this in the first place? The last thing I want is you thinkin’ I’m some grizzled ex-con.” He said with a laugh.

 

Donald raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. “Of course.”

 

“An old boyfriend of mine from St. Canard was having problems with a gang that’s main branch is in Duckburg. I offered to snoop around, spook ‘em a bit by hanging out too close to their home terf, I mean I’m a pretty big guy I can be intimidating y’know?” Launchpad explains, he glanced down at his jacket envisioning the mottled bruises already beginning to form on his torso. A weak laugh escaped him, “Which, hearing out loud, makes me realize that was a pretty bad idea. Guess I was a lil _too_ intimidating, all this was a warning.” He said, gesturing to his swollen eye and scuffed up face.

 

Donald grimaced sympathetically, placing a delicate but reassuring hand on Launchpad’s shoulder, careful not to jostle any possible bruising there. “Well your heart was in the right place. Although I do agree it kinda _was_ a bad idea.” He said, with a light smile which Launchpad returned with one of his own. Donald removed his hand after a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. “Y’know… I remember you doing something similar in Macaw, didn’t you? I was probably a little concussed from that slot machine falling on me, but you were in some armor, weren’t you?” He questioned.

 

Launchpad let out a chuckle, that seemed to be just a tad tinged with nerves. “Yeah you caught me, Ziyi was in a bit of a bind and well I was in the area. I’m not much of a gambler anyway.” He joked.

 

“I don’t know many people who make it a habit to go do crazy stuff for their exes.” Donald said, respect and intrigue in his voice.

 

Launchpad couldn’t help but shrug at the comment, the movement leaving his muscles aching for a moment. “What can I say, I like helping people, especially the ones I care about.” He replied, good-naturedly.

 

“You’re a pretty good guy, Launchpad.” Donald commended.

 

Launchpad lit up at the praise, completely unbothered by the weak throb originating from his beak with his smile. “Thanks Donald, you too.” He said, he planned to elaborate more but he finds himself cut off as a yawn escapes him.

 

Donald has a warm expression when his eyes glance over to the mounted clock nearby. “Jeez it’s getting kinda late. No offense but you look like you could use all the sleep you can get.” He teased.

 

That earned an amused huff from Launchpad, “I agree but some taken.” He replied, the humor in his eyes saying otherwise.

 

“You were pretty unsteady earlier, can you stand? I’ll walk you back to the garage.” Donald asked, offering him a hand.

 

“Yup!” Launchpad said, taking the hand and pulling himself up. Almost immediately the woozy feeling from earlier returned, faded for the most part but still strong enough to make his stomach twist. “Nope!” He exclaimed with the same enthusiasm as before, releasing Donald’s hand and sitting back down. Once the lightheaded feeling had dissipated, he spoke again, “…I just need a few more minutes I think, it’s mostly gone I just got dizzy from standing up to fast. I’ll be out of your feathers soon.”

 

Donald shook his head, “Nonsense Launchpad, you’re not _in my feathers._ I’ll go get you some blankets, get comfortable.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive.” Donald replied, turning to get said blankets.

 

“Okay, cool. Thanks Donnie, wait, can I call you Donnie?”

 

Donald found his beak curling into a small smile, “No problem, …and sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love comments and hearing thoughts on what ive wrote! give me a shout here or my duck tumblr, requests are open!


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